


Unforeseen Circumstances

by vials



Category: Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, honestly i'm not even going to try and tag this because it's just A Lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: Getting the answers is straightforward. It's what's done with them afterwards that can lead to trouble.





	Unforeseen Circumstances

Jim Angleton had always been too clever for his own good, though many people might have thought otherwise. Some people would say he thought too much, which he would have thoroughly disagreed with; others still would have said he was completely off his rocker, which he might agree with, if he was in the right mood and saw the humorous side to it all. But the thing with Jim was once he got an idea in his head he couldn’t let it go. Not that he _wouldn’t_ , though that had something to do with it, sometimes. He simply couldn’t. He had to get to the bottom of it. Some said it would lead him into trouble. Kim was one of them, and it was he who had to prove everyone correct.

“Kim! Come in. Sit down, make yourself at home, have a drink – the usual?”

He had almost done a perfect job covering up the tightness in his voice, and Kim had almost done a perfect job in pretending he hadn’t heard it. The atmosphere was tense before it had begun, but Kim took a drink anyway. The drinks were over at the corner of the room, behind Kim, and he felt himself tense up as Jim went to fix them. For some reason he was suddenly far too aware of the fact that Jim was behind him, that he couldn’t see what he was doing, and he wondered just what it was he had heard in Jim’s voice. Whatever it was, it had forced Kim into listening to the other man intently, drawing comfort from each time he head the clink of glass on glass. 

The room around him was the room Jim used as his study at home, and for all intents and purposes it looked completely normal. There was nothing out of place, aside from everything that was supposed to be out of place – Jim was never overly organised when he was stuck deeply into something, though somehow he always knew where everything was – and from first glance Kim couldn’t work out what had set him on edge. It was only after another glance around that he noticed something was off; piles of paper and folders were not unusual in the chaos of Jim’s office but papers shoved hastily out of sight were. Under the seat of the chair opposite him, Kim could see the edges of several sheets of paper sticking out, as though Jim had been sitting there when Kim had called by and hastily shoved them under the seat before getting up to let him in. Why hadn’t he just carried them over with him and stowed them away in one of the no doubt many places he had to hide things? Whatever the pages contained much have been important enough to cause Jim to panic and act impulsively, and Kim knew nothing that could do that to Jim of all people would be good.

What was more, he was certain it concerned him. Why else would Jim have panicked? Why else would he have been so eager to hide the pages the instant he heard Kim’s voice?

Briefly Kim wondered if it was paranoia, but something in his gut told him otherwise. 

“How are things?” he asked, concentrating on keeping his voice much more natural than it had been when he had accepted the drink. “I’ve heard they’re riding you pretty hard at work.”

“You know how it is,” Jim said, his own voice having also recovered. “Bit embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“A little,” Kim admitted. “Though I suppose you can at least put it on us lot. It’s not an American, is it?”

“Apparently not. Apparently it’s a Brit. You’re all going to get a thrashing for this, Kim. You ready?”

“I’m sure it’ll be a bundle of laughs.” The clink of glasses. Kim edged forward. “A belly-laugh, as I’m sure Nick would put it. I imagine it’s a careful affair on your end too?”

He shifted and kept his eyes just to the side of Jim’s back, feeling his fingers brush against the paper. 

“Oh, of course. Can’t go rushing into these things. Wouldn’t want the mole to smell a rat.”

He turned. Kim managed to snatch his hand back just in time. He forced himself to relax as Jim returned with the drinks, sitting himself on the chair and hiding the pages with his legs. Kim felt slightly unsteady. He couldn’t believe he had been stupid enough to take such a risk. What would he have done if he’d gotten them? What had gotten into him? His ice clinked in the glass as he trembled slightly. 

“Or see anything he shouldn’t,” Jim said, pointedly. 

Kim felt his heart drop and hoped he had kept it off his face. “Of course not.” 

The sip of alcohol burned his throat and grounded him slightly, but not enough. The heaviness in the pit of his stomach grew. Jim was staring at him, his gaze focused and unflickering, and Kim finally accepted the fact that he knew. He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but there was nothing else for it. Kim would be an idiot to deny it to himself any further. He doubted he would be able to make his excuses now, but maybe they could strike a deal. Exchange him, perhaps. He had had a good run. Longer than he would have expected. He doubted they would have him executed. Britain would want to deal with him, and he would still have some friends left in higher places, he was sure. Or at least powerful ex-friends who wanted answers, and they would be just as useful. 

“What was it you were dropping round for, again?” Jim asked, perfectly pleasantly, and Kim realised he had all but forgotten.

“Just touching base,” he answered, because it was the only part of his reasoning that he could remember. “You’ve been busy lately and I know how you get. Also been avoiding your usual haunts, so I figured I’d make sure you hadn’t worked yourself to death.”

“Got on the trail of something,” Jim said, sipping his drink. “Thought I’d better focus on it where I could have a little privacy. Apparently that’s hard to come by lately. Tell me, Kim, what did you think you’d see on that paper you were trying to pilfer from this chair?”  
Kim swallowed. There really was no way to talk himself out of it, and he respected Jim’s attention to detail too much to try. 

“God damn it, Kim!” Jim burst out, before he could reply. “What the hell is wrong with you? You must have known you wouldn’t get away with it!”

Kim hadn’t expected such an obvious admission of knowledge from Jim, but luckily he recovered quickly, channelling his nerves into a look of righteous indignation. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Jim.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense. I can see it all over your face.” He slammed the drink down onto the table between them, pointing a finger accusingly at Kim’s face. “You’re slipping up. Trying to go for something so obvious – I suppose it’s the stress. They always say spies slip up eventually, don’t they? Stress of the double life. It must be exhausting. You must have known you’d get caught one day. But _Christ_ , Kim! _You_? I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t been for the last few days.”

Kim would never know why he changed tactics. He would later try and claim to himself that it had been a crime of passion, of sorts – that he hadn’t intended to do it until it was already done. It was another lie in a long list of them. He wouldn’t have changed tactics if the idea hadn’t been forming, at least somewhere, in the back of his mind.

“H-how many people h-have you t-told?” he asked quietly, no longer trying to fight the stutter. “H-how many people kn-know?”

Jim looked at him for a moment without speaking, his look of disgust momentarily deepening, and then he sighed. “Oh, Kim. I didn’t expect it of you. I haven’t told anybody yet. I wanted to test the water, see if I was correct. I still hoped I was wrong—”

The glass connected hard with the side of his head, right at the temple. Kim had driven it there with enough force that it shattered, and within a split second his hand was covered with blood and the sting of alcohol. He could barely believe he had done it – even as Jim let out a shocked yell and slipped off the seat to the floor, Kim was only just catching up with his body. There still wasn’t enough of him present to consider what he was doing. He seemed to act without any thought, following the original plan that he hadn’t even realised he was making. He was suddenly on top of Jim, pinning him to the small area of floor between the seats and the table, and somehow his hands were clenched tightly around the man’s throat. Jim put up a fair struggle but he was clearly dazed by the hit to the head, his eyes slightly unfocused, and he had always been skinnier than Kim – and right now he certainly wasn’t as desperate. Somewhere in the back of his mind Kim was aware of what he was doing; somewhere he could hear Jim choking, feel him struggling, and he knew when he fell silent. It felt like hours but it could have only been minutes. When Kim let go, he couldn’t feel his hands, and Jim’s lips were blue. 

Kim knelt there, motionless, for several minutes. His thoughts began to catch up with him, the heaviness in his stomach that had been present ever since he had heard the strange tone in Jim’s voice growing past anything he thought he could deal with.

“Oh, C-Christ,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to his face and dropping them down again when he caught the acidic smell of the alcohol. “Oh God, oh f-fuck… wh-what have I…?”

It was too late to do anything. Even if he could resuscitate him, he wouldn’t. He had two choices now – he could try and cover up the death, or he could run. 

He thought of Aileen and the children. He thought of Guy, still unaware, and Donald, the only other person it could be. The answer was not one he wanted to accept, but he knew it all the same. He would have to try and ride it out.

Kim stood slowly, feeling on the verge of shaking. He had probably an hour, maximum two, until Jim’s wife arrived home. She didn’t know he was coming over. Kim had checked, as was habit for him, and he hadn’t been followed. Any potential microphones in the room could be found and dealt with accordingly. He still had control. 

The thoughts weren’t reassuring enough to stop him from stumbling to the bathroom and being violently sick. By the time he emerged, ten minutes of precious time had gone. Kim stumbled over to the desk, vaguely remembering that, as a rule, office phones were rarely tapped. Even if this one was, he could cover his tracks. He was hysterical. Of course he would call a friend first. Jim had been a good friend of his and he had killed himself. Why wouldn’t Kim call someone close to him, rather than remembering any protocol or common sense?

Aileen picked up, which Kim stupidly hadn’t thought about. Well, she would have to play along too, and if she didn’t know the truth she wouldn’t be able to tell it.

“Aileen,” Kim gasped, the perfect picture of a grief-stricken friend. “Can you get G-Guy on the fuh-fuh-phone? Please?”

Thankfully Aileen was used to not asking questions. He heard her call to him, heard the phone get handed over, heard her leave the room.

“Hello, old boy,” came Guy’s voice, sounding almost jolly compared to anything else Kim had heard that night. “Anything interesting?”

“Guy,” Kim said, letting the hitch in his breath be heard. “Can you come to Jim’s? F-fast? It’s ruh-ruh—urgent, it’s very urgent.”

He heard the brief beat of confusion in the silence before, wearily, worried, Guy agreed. It would take him no more than ten more minutes to arrive. It felt like the longest ten minutes of his life. 

When he finally did arrive, stepping into the room as Kim hurriedly whispered the real story into his ear – and all the reasons why he had just as much stake in covering it up as Kim did – he looked about as serious as Kim had ever seen him. It was the strangest, most overwhelming relief when he caught sight of Jim, slumped on the ground, and his face split into the kind of smile which made it obvious its owner knew it was highly inappropriate.

“Well, Kim, old boy,” he said, his voice a barely audible murmur. “It means a lot to me that you consider me the kind of friend you’d want to hide a body with.” 

“We’re making it look like a suicide,” Kim hissed back, and Guy tried to stifle his laughter. “Stop it! This is serious.”

“I know, I know,” Guy said, waving a hand. “Come on.”

The tightness in his chest hadn’t vanished. If anything, it had grown worse. But that was something he would deal with later, if he ever had time. He had as good a chance as any – and if he had to, he still had a chance to run. He had signed up for this. He had told himself he would do anything. With Guy’s presence he was able to force back most of the uncharacteristic guilt, but strangely, worryingly, it didn’t leave entirely. Kim had never had to kill anyone he had looked in the eye before. He had never had to think about it. They had never been a friend. 

“I suppose we’re in this together now,” Guy said casually, as they set up the scene.

“Yes,” Kim said grimly. “I hope I can trust you.”

“Well, I’ve seen what’ll happen if you can’t,” Guy replied, his voice oddly light, but they hit Kim with a weight he hadn’t expected. 

He seemed to be the only one surprised at his actions. He didn’t want to think about what that meant. He didn’t want to think about if Guy was the only one in his circle of friends who wouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t want to think about what that said about him. He didn’t want to think about any of it.


End file.
